


if you would only let you

by futile_devices



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuuin no Tsurugi | Fire Emblem: Binding Blade
Genre: Blindness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Post-Canon, aha! a mitski lyric title. finally. sufjan gets a damn break, and all the quiet nights you bare seal them up with care, elffie cant a find a book., ie. how fucked everything is post war and how much pressure that is on mildain !!!, ive been going feral over this so theres probably gonna be more, no one needs to know theyre there for i will hold them for you, only like. in the end though, this is titled "how can i name a doc the entirety of i will by mitski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futile_devices/pseuds/futile_devices
Summary: mildain shoots up. “no.” his voice is shaking, even in its raised tone. heavy, even in one little syllable, but it is anguish. “you shouldn’t have to do everything for me. im not… im the king of etruria, i should be able to find one book without needing the help of my-” st. elmine, why can’t he-“yes, you are. out there, yes.” mildain tries to focus on his voice, something steady, calm, without the undulating waves that so easily flow from him. focus.“im not weak, perceval.” at least he cannot see the way his body trembles, cannot see how tangled his hair must be, how tear stained his cheeks are. a mess, most likely, no ounce of strength, no composure so befitting of who he must be.





	if you would only let you

mildain can’t tell how late it is. even if his vision was completely there, the hours of writing out letters and legislation drone on and meld into one long night. its blurry, slightly blotted out black spots in his eyes but he can see. he can read the words in front of him, that swirl and swirl and swirl- 

how long has he been awake?

he’s too tired to walk toward the balcony and see how high the moon is. he would rather simply, go to bed, leave this for the morning, but there’s so much more to do. bernese diplomats, meetings on how to deal with nabata, not to mention the internal affairs of etruria. restructuring the military, rebuilding roads, villages, all the sorts of things that he should leave to a lower official but he would not. perhaps out of fear of letting go of his kingdom once more. to see it fall again to ashes. 

he could not do that to his father, even if he does sleep in that grave, next to where mildain once was buried. 

he could not do that to himself, to live with that guilt, for he know he cannot die again with it. he could not do that to cecilia, who has always been a better strategist both in battle and politics than mildain could or ever has been, who is the daughter of all that etruria should be. he could not do that to douglas, who was so willing to give up his life so that this one could flourish, who saw so much in the possibility of the youth, of these generals and their prince. he could not do that to perceval, who has so many plans, so many changes, so much determination for that new world he has always seen in the distance of the sky. 

mildain stops mid-sentence in his writing. something about… opening trade with bern once again, but… there’s something. he’s forgetting something. what time is it? or was it their express support for the unification of lycia (that was unprecedented; a collection of city-states evolving into a kingdom. he could not lie in saying that he was slightly disappointed in that; he rather enjoyed reading of the different political climate there in a land with marquesses and not kings, a council of highers and not simply a king. but lord roy and lady lilina are their father’s children, are their mother’s children, and he has read and heard enough stories that there is no doubt of theri success). no, no, was it for the relief effort? 

he pulls out the chair from the desk, walking slowly to the shelves of books near it. “where is it… where…” muttered quietly under his breath as his vision is blurring darker. he nearly trips on a book he’s left haphazardly on the floor, but his steps are slow enough that he’s able to shove it away with his foot as he gets closer. mildain’s hands trace along the shelves, searching for a tome his father often referenced. 

none of the spines feel like it. 

he starts pulling out one after the other, trying to read their titles until his vision completely blackens and his breath is heaving and tears are welling. 

“ki- mildain? are you-” 

mildain’s completely surrounded by books by the time the door creaks open. footsteps grow closer, but they stop a few feet from him. 

his head turns to where the voice came from, or where he thinks it did. “i can’t find it.” his fingers flip through one book, but he’s not even looking at at. it isn’t as if he’d be able to see it. “where is it, perceval? i cant-” 

steps draw closer. perceval’s right next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, but mildain moves the moment it rests there. “i cant find it.” he repeats, throwing the book in his lap aside, fumbling for another, but his hands only find empty air. 

“the book? didn’t you leave it on your bed?”

“i put it back on the shelf when i woke up. st elmine, curse me, where is it.” 

“let me-”

mildain shoots up. “no.” his voice is shaking, even in its raised tone. heavy, even in one little syllable, but it is anguish. “you shouldn’t have to do everything for me. im not… im the king of etruria, i should be able to find one book without needing the help of my-” st. elmine, why can’t he-

“yes, you are. out there, yes.” mildain tries to focus on his voice, something steady, calm, without the undulating waves that so easily flow from him. focus. 

“im not weak, perceval.” at least he cannot see the way his body trembles, cannot see how tangled his hair must be, how tear stained his cheeks are. a mess, most likely, no ounce of strength, no composure so befitting of who he must be. 

“no one ever said you were.” 

that answer makes him want to scream because those who sit in his court very well think it. 

it’s more so selfish on his part in ignoring the state of his general who holds him steady, but he cannot even see how dark his eyes are, how unkempt his hair is. it’s more selfish in falling apart amongst a sea of wrong pages and his own wistful wishes. to not think of the burden he has taken, bore from his own self and wishes (as any dutiful knight and ambitious general would).

“that’s not- you shouldn’t have to check up on me every night, elmine knows how much we stake in it.” no one has noticed, at least, for they both meet the other too late in the night and leave far too early in morning. so little time for sleep, for any sort of enjoyment. “you have more important work surely, perceval.” his labored breaths get more and more collected, but he’s still sniffling in the next. “go to your quarters; i can find it myself.” 

for however much the night was full of terrors, for however filled he is of tears, neither of them move, even after that. 

“i cannot.” 

“i never asked if-”

“you never do.” 

he is sorry, for everything. if he can be, at least. but there are some things that he cannot be, not truly, even if he wishes to be. he cannot apologize for the weight of the world or how tired they both it. 

somehow he didn’t realize how utterly tired he was. 

“you can go.” mildain acquiesces. it is not an order. not something to obey, but an offer to the other. but stay with me.

his hand’s are taken by the other, and there’s a soft tug as perceval walks. mildain follows. “but you wont, will you?” deep sigh, but it’s through a half hearted laugh. 

“if you let me.” 

“yes. my… my apolo-”

“do not” 

mildain is led to the bed, perceval’s hands gently guiding him onto it, pulling the sheets over, blowing out the candle. 

a few seconds, and there’s movement beside him. the other is beside him. pulling him close. blowing away any doubts. 

he falls asleep in the other’s arms.


End file.
